All It Takes is a Little Bit of Love: Sneak Peek!
by Princess Milly
Summary: A sneak peek of my upcoming story, "All It Takes is a Little Bit of Love." It's in the "Pride and Prejudice" category because its plot will go according to its plot. This one-shot is a scene in about the middle or towards the end- I'm not sure! Don't expect regular updates in the actual story since I KNOW I won't. Hope you enjoy!


**Yo! It's Amelia, or Milly for short. My previous internet alias was "Rose" but now I can be myself online. :D This is just a little bit of a story I'm writing; I'm definitely not finished. I'm not sure where I'm going or anything, but I'm enjoying this. The POVs will change from Kristine to Matthew depending on how I'm feeling. I'm putting this under "Jane Austen: Pride and Prejudice" because it'll go similarly to the plot there. So, I hope you enjoy this sneak peek!**

He looked at her and saw the impossible: Kristine was sobbing, her once pristine expression the very face of unmistakable sorrow and regret. Her golden brown hair streamed down her face and back; her scraggly bangs hid the midnight blue eyes that produced the silver river of saltwater flowing down her face and into the dress she had so recently been so happy and carefree in. Matthew awkwardly stood in the fluffy bushes spying on Kristine for several minutes. Despite his usual repellence of girls, he went over and sank down next to her.

"Kristine?"

Kristine didn't respond; instead, she continued to sob despairingly, rocking back and forth on the unforgiving, cold, hard cement.

"_Kristine,_" he whispered again, but this time his voice broke into a puff of mist in the cold winter air. He looked around and, seeing no one, turned back to Kristine. She was shaking visibly and uncontrollably; when she stopped blubbering to breathe, they were ragged gasps. Matthew touched her arm gingerly and was surprised at how cold it was; he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Let me button this up for you." Without waiting for a response, he pried her arms away and fed them into the jacket. Her arms were cold and wet from her tears and smothered with her hair, but Matthew didn't care. Once he was done, she buried her face again but he gently lifted her face to see if there was anything else he could do. She gasped in pain and recoiled at his touch, fresh tears pooling in her midnight blue eyes. He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard her gasping turn into wheezing.

"What's wrong? What happened?" he demanded.

She didn't respond – almost like she couldn't.

"Kristine," he began hesitantly, "can you talk?"

She shook her head but cried out in pain. She was definitely wheezing now and was barely able to breathe.

"Okay, okay – calm down. Did someone hurt you?"

She shook her head again but went slowly this time.

"Do you need something?"

She nodded the tiniest of nods.

"Where's your bag?"

Her eyes darted around helplessly and then focused on something behind me. She seemed to be pointing with her eyes.

I looked behind me and saw an old, dilapidated denim bag sagging against the cold stone courtyard wall. I got to my feet and grabbed the bag, walked swiftly back to Kristine, and set it in her lap. Her fingers shook so badly she could hardly open the bag. I grabbed it and looked through its contents: a pen, her wallet, a pad of paper, a water bottle, her phone, a protein bar, and a little bag full of little things like hair ties, bobby pins, lipstick, a compact mirror and brush, and an inhaler. By the way she was struggling for breath, he decided to get the inhaler. She opened her mouth and puffs of air escaped into white mist. I took off the cap and placed it between her chapped lips. I pressed the top of the inhaler to release the medicine and she breathed it in. She held up her hand momentarily to signal me to stop for a second. After a minute or so, she opened her mouth again and released another puff of mist. I repeated what I had done before to get it into her mouth and in a few minutes, she was able to breathe fairly well.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice raw and practically inaudible. She took her water bottle out of her bag and slowly drank a little. When she spoke again, I could hear her much better. "You saved me."

I flushed. "Oh, well uh, you needed help. Don't worry about it; you'll be fine."

Her eyes studied me. "I guess you would say that," she sighed. She glanced down at her hands. "Anyways, I owe you one. I'll not detain you any longer – "

"No! Um, I mean, no, it's okay. Stay here a little longer; you still need to –"

"No, really. It's fine." She rose unsteadily to her feet, and I also rose. She inhaled deeply and took a step. Immediately, her knees buckled and she collapsed into my arms.

"Kristine," I begged, "please at least wait until you can _walk_!"

She laughed weakly and tried to support herself again but couldn't seem to find the strength. She looked down and noticed my jacket was still around her. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm still wearing your jacket. I'll take it off."

"It's fine. I don't need it; I have enough at home," I lied. Usually girls can tell when I'm lying, but I guess Kristine was just too weak to notice. Either that or she just didn't care.

"All right."She leaned into me and I held her close. It was almost like holding my sister again. That thought alone made my eyes tear. I rested my head on her head and breathed in the cool, misty air around us.

We stood like that for a while, her enveloped in my long, lanky arms. For a moment, it was just me and Kristine. But eventually I could feel her breaths come more and more easily; I felt that she could stand on her own. Finally, we broke free from the embrace. This time, she was stable and confident like the Kristine everyone else knew. She met my eyes and held them for a three count but eventually dropped her gaze with her hands. "I'll see you around, Matthew," she smiled. Her countenance looked as if we had just flirted together, not had a memorable moment of boy with girl in a fairy tale. I was pleased with that; I knew that she didn't want anyone to know what had occurred as much as me.

"See ya," I responded. I bowed like a gentleman and offered her the bag. "Your bag, m'lady."

She smiled sweetly and took it. It was impossible to believe that she was the same person I had been comforting minutes earlier, but it was. The same midnight blue eyes, same scar down her eyebrow, and same jaw line bruise.

"Take care, Matthew. I'm hosting a Christmas party this Saturday if you want to come," she offered. "It's the least I can do."

"Then you shall see me there. Good night, Kristine."

"Good night," she responded. She turned and walked a few steps before stopping and turning again. "And Matthew, call me Kris."

And with that, she swept out of the courtyard.


End file.
